


thanks for the ransom, handsome.

by citykidcrimes (orphan_account)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 16:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18237599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/citykidcrimes
Summary: a late night at STAR Labs leads to an argument. and argument leads to something much worse. what to do when the only way to save the love of your life is to sacrifice everyone else?





	thanks for the ransom, handsome.

Cisco spent too much time at the bar. 

He wasn’t drinking or anything, he hadn’t been able to do that properly since college. And he sure as hell wasn’t out going on any dates with Central City's finest. No, he was sitting in STAR Labs crappy waiting room bar, waiting for his boyfriend to finish his work. Scratch that, not boyfriend. He forgot Harry “didn't like labels.” Asshole. 

It wasn’t like Cisco didn’t understand wanting to stay to finish work. He understood, hell, he admired dedication Harry's dedication to work. Cisco often would be at STAR Labs till midnight, even later when they really needed to get something done. 

But he would always, always leave for Harry. When he got too stressed out and needed to relax, Cisco was always there to bring him Big Belly Burger. When he wanted to go see Jessie, Cisco always offered to accompany him to Earth 2. Whenever Harry needed anything, ever, Cisco was always there. And Harry couldn’t even be bothered to at least complete his work in the day so he wouldn’t be stuck here till 2am. So both of them wouldn’t be stuck here, because Harry didn’t even have his own car on this Earth. 

When he first started asking for rides, Cisco was glad to oblige. Any time spent with Harry had been treasured. He had even been happy to stay late, working side by side with Harry, sharing fries and ideas over late nights and But at 1 in the morning, when Harry insisted on having the whole lab to himself, it was starting to be more and more of an annoyance. Cisco glanced at the clock. Make that 2 in the morning. Fuck it. He got up, his knees protesting against being used for the first time in hours. He ignored to strain in his legs, internally debating whether or not he should vibe into the workroom for dramatic effect. He had almost started to walk to the lab when he heard a clatter, followed by a string of curses. In a split second, he changed his mind quickly breached to the lab. 

“Harry, what happened?” Despite his previous annoyance, the crash of supplies turned him straight into protective mode. Harry was pacing around the wreckage of whatever contraption he had spent all night building. Cisco instantly was on his knees, picking up whatever he could. He barely had laid his hands on a single screw before Harry snapped at him.

“Leave it alone, Ramon.” There was a palpable edge in his voice, but Cisco kept his head down, still picking things up and staying silent as he tried to keep his cool. 

“I said to leave it alone, Cisco!” Harry’s voice changed from annoyed to plain anger, shouting Cisco's name. He turned away, hands through his hair, waiting for Ramon to get out. When he turned back around, Cisco was still on the floor, but he had dropped the pieces that were previously in his hands. When Cisco looked up, his eyes were full of anger. 

“What did you just say ?” Harry realized his mistake, but not before Cisco was on his feet and yelling again. “Did you just tell me to stop helping you?” Harry started to say something but again was cut off by Cisco. 

“You take me for granted, all the time! I’m done with this whole tortured genius act. Say you’re sorry.” Again, Harry just stood there. “Say you’re fucking sorry, Harry,” Cisco’s rage was cold and controlled. 

“I don't…. I don't know what to apologize for.” Harry was visibly uncomfortable, but if Cisco saw it, he ignored it. 

“You don’t know what to say sorry for? Are you kidding me?” The same honey brown eyes Harry took joy in waking up next to were now crystal cut with anger. 

“Do you realize how much shit I do for you? How many times I’ve waited till four in the fucking morning to drive you home? How many times I've dropped whatever I'm doing to accommodate you? And you have the audacity to yell at me? For helping you? When’s the last time you did shit for me, Harry? What have you done for me?” Harry had never heard Cisco yell like this. Sure, Cisco got mad at Barry, or at tech when it wasn’t working properly, but never at Harry. He didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there, speechless. 

“I..I’m sorry,” Harry managed. 

“But you're not. You’re never really sorry, Harry. Find your own ride home. I’m leaving.” And with that, Cisco turned on his heel and started to walk away. When he heard Harry's footfall behind him, he breached to his car. It wasn’t till he got halfway home that the buildup of tears spilled over. 

 

Fuck. Tears ran down his cheeks, fast and hot. Why had he snapped like that? Suddenly, his old college habit seemed like a much easier route than dealing with his feelings. He wouldn’t need to face the sadness if he could keep himself angry. Cisco blinked the tears out of his eyes. 

Out of his now clear peripheral vision, Cisco saw a smooth black Rolls Royce. It wasn’t an uncommon display of wealth in Central City, but years of working with team Flash had taught him to know when someone was tailing him. Fine. He wouldn't go to the bar right away. He pulled the car into reverse, quickly performing a dangerous- and mostly illegal- turn. 

Five minutes later, he pulled into his own apartment garage. The drive home and a carefully curated playlist had done nothing but amplify his anger. The mirror caught his eyes as he threw down his keys. Cisco was wearing faded grey jeans and a bright blue button down. He didn’t feel so bright blue anymore. Hitting the light switch as he walked in, Cisco forayed into his closet until he found a pair of tight black jeans. He wore these on his second date with Harry, hoping to impress. Fuck it. He pulled them on, adopting a plain maroon tee shirt. He snagged a leather jacket on the way out. Ten minutes later, he was already ordering a second drink. 

His previous disdain for alcohol had been far abandoned. In fact, the idea of getting so fucked up he didn’t remember anything in the morning sounded more than appealing. Cisco sat at the end of the bar, drinking overpriced bourbon and staring into the distance. To anyone else, he looked like the strong, silent type, thinking about some deep philosophy. In actuality, Cisco was working himself deeper and deeper into a mental wormhole. The tab he opened with the bartender was growing by the minute. 

Whatever. He could pay it off. Of course he could. He worked with Harrison fucking Wells, the man who had 7 Ph.D.’s and still was physically unable to maintain a single healthy relationship. But that wasn’t Harry's fault. Maybe Cisco had been too harsh? He should call Harry and apologize. But why should he have to say sorry for Harry's mistake? His inner monologue bounced back and forth like a pinball. Well, drown your sorrows was a saying for a reason. 

Cisco was ordering his fourth drink when someone saddled up to the seat next to him. 

“Add a manhattan to that. On the rocks.” The woman who had taken the stool adjacent to Cisco was enthralling. Her olive skin reflected the neon lights of the bar, and her face was framed by hair the color of starless nights. Her lips were red and her eyes painted in jewel tones. A black vinyl dress clung to her and a silk kimono was artfully draped around hips. If Cisco had cared at all, he would have joined the rest of the men in the bar in staring at her. Instead, he offhandedly brushed her away.

“And authorized this?” Cisco still hadn’t looked up from his drink. 

“Well typically in this whole flirting thing, you would be the one buying me the drinks, but you seemed a little behind on the curve. I’m just trying to help you out.” She winked and scooted closer to Cisco as the bartender brought her over her drink. Her manicured fingers barely reached out before Cisco moved it the way with the side of his hand. He picked it up and downed it in one swallow. Placing it back on the table, he looked at the woman for the first time in the whole conversation. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not my type, and I’m not drunk enough to pretend you are.” Despite being pissed at Harry, Cisco wasn’t the type to cheat. 

“We’ll see about that, Cisco. We’ll see” With that, she got up from the bar, her touch trailing Cisco’s shoulder as she walked away. Cisco was had barely lifted his drink when he stopped. A thought was trying to form in his brain. It was muddled and repressed by two too many drinks, but it still froze him to his seat. How did she know his name? Had he told her his name? He couldn’t remember. 

Something was wrong. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he felt it. Something was off. He was in trouble. Shit. He probably could have done a better job dodging that car earlier. He wracked his mind for any meta’s he’d heard of that fit her description. 

His hand was heading to hit the alert on his phone when someone grabbed him by the bicep. The next thing he felt was a fist to the face. 

Oh shit. 

Cisco tried to swing back, but it seemed like all the alcohol was hitting him too hard. Like, way too hard. The bar started to tilt, which could have been Cisco's vision, but also could have been due to the fact a second man was dragging him out of the bar. Everything sounded underwater. He was on the ground, and there was blood in his mouth now. Did he get hit again? What was going on? Another blow struck him, and this time he felt this one, swift and to the stomach. Then another, and another, and another. He was stuck between feeling like he was floating and then being dragged back down to reality every time he got hit. 

Cisco desperately tried to vibe, but he felt empty. Devoid of power. He could have put much more thought into it if he hadn’t been getting the shit kicked out of him. On top of that, his vision was blurry and his head felt stuffed.

The floor seemed to shift under him. Just when he thought he couldn’t take more, the barrage of fists and feet stopped suddenly. He watched the men walk away, only their legs visible from his position on the ground. And then he was alone. He didn’t realize he was crying until sobs started shaking his body. What was going on? 

In the dark alley, Cisco’s mind could only form one rational thought. He needed Harry. If he could talk to him, Harry could come to save him. Slowly and painfully, he reached his hand to his pocket. Shit. Shit. Everything hurt. He felt his eyes glaze over, a mixture of tears and a loss of cognizance. Why couldn’t he think right? 

He heard his voice whisper out a to place the call, but he felt like he was floating away from his body. No. He needed to stay until Harry answered. Harry had to answer. A machine voice droned out of the speakers, telling him to leave a message. 

“Fuck, Harry, I’m so sorry. Please pick up.” Cisco’s eyelashes fluttered, and he could feel his consciousness slipping away as an automated voice asked if he was satisfied with his message. Hands shaking, he smeared blood on the glass screen as he redialed. And redialed. And redialed. By the 8th message, Cisco speech was slurred in a mixture of sobs and incoherency. He felt his mind slipping away. Everything hurt so bad. His periphery went dark. The concrete floor under his face drifted in and out of focus. He struggled to make his fingers move over the buttons. He wanted to fight it so bad, but he couldn’t. The last thing he saw before his eyes glued shut was a pair of heels, clicking like knives on the cold floor. 

 

Harry didn't trust himself enough to be alone with his thoughts. Despite staying up working on tech all night, his mind was flooded with Cisco. Every time Harry started to get into his work or forget about his problems for a second, his brain was filled with the image of Cisco’s face, angrier than Harry had ever seen him. Harry didn’t blame him. He didn’t deserve Cisco. He never had. So when he called the first time, Harry set his phone to silent and put it across the room. Talking to Cisco would only hurt him more. 

But it was almost 4 in the morning now, which was late, even by Harry’s standards. Sighing, he put down the wires he had absentmindedly been playing with. He hadn’t gotten anything done. He doubted he would be able to for a while. Thankfully, it was a Friday. He could just say he was going to visit Jessie for the weekend. A perfectly valid excuse to avoid his feelings. 

He didn’t really have anywhere to go if it wasn’t home with Cisco. Harry pulled himself up, heading to the lounge. He laid down on a couch, but as soon as he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not without knowing what Cisco had called 17 times to say. 

He would just listen to the messages. Listening couldn’t hurt anyone. 

He took his phone out of his pocket, lowering the brightness and pressing play. The audio crackled to life as Harry put his phone down. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what's happening. I’m at the bar on 3rd street. I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean any of what I said. There, there was this lady, and s-she knew my name, and then were these guys and they took me outside, and it hurts so bad.” Sobs rendered the rest of his message unintelligible. 

Harry froze. Oh god. Glued to his spot, there was nothing he could do but listen as the rest of the messages flooded through his speakers. 

“I need you. I don't know how long I can keep calling, someone might come back. My head hurts so bad, I- I think she might have put something in my drink. . . please just come help me.”

“Please help me, Harry. Why won’t you fucking pick up? Please.”

“Please help me, Harry. You have to help me, I don’t know what to do.”

“Please help me” 

“Please.” 

The messages continued on, seeming like they would never stop. Harry felt panic rising in his chest. No. He had to be strong, he had to go get the rest of the team, and help Cisco. He started to move, getting ready to press the nearest panic alarm when the sharp ring of his phone cut the sound of Cisco’s sobs. Barely breathing, he pressed accept. A woman's voice filled the lounge. 

“Seems like someone’s missing their little boy toy. Don’t worry, I’m taking better care of him than you ever did. Listen to me, Harrison. You call the cops, he’s dead. You tell the team, he’s dead. You try to find me, he’s dead. Got it?” Harry was silent. “Fine. Don’t believe me? Cisco will tell you himself.” A scream vibrated through Harry’s tiny phone speaker, unmistakably pained and unmistakably Cisco.

**Author's Note:**

> um hopefully u liked it? i’ll try to have the next chapter up by next monday, sorry if this one was kind of slow. :)


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